


apple picking

by pipsqueakparker (lafbaeyette)



Series: fictober 2020 [3]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fictober, Fluff and Angst, I'm sorry one day I'll follow a prompt properly and just give you straight fluff that's related, M/M, Post-Book 1: Carry On, Wayward Son? Never heard of her, pls forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/pipsqueakparker
Summary: Simon Snow is laying on the floor of an apple orchard.This was Bunce’s latest idea to get us all out of the flat. We’ve both been trying to pull Snow out as much as we can. After dropping out of his courses he spent the entire summer on the couch with a hard cider in hand. He’s been so…Well, it’s not as if I could blame him. His final year at Watford and he lost his mentor, his magic, and his sense of purpose in one fell swoop. He was doing alright for a bit, after. When he was seeing someone; a lovely woman, according to him, that let him talk and talk about everything he’d tried to not think about. She must not have been too lovely, he stopped going to his appointments after a while. He never told me why.He hardly tells me anything.We’re still together. He’s not broken up with me, at least, and sometimes he’ll hold my hand when we’re in line at the market. I think he finds a sense of comfort from it, needs something to ground him when we’re around all those people. All those Normals. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but it can’t be easy to cope with.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: fictober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949911
Comments: 17
Kudos: 81





	apple picking

**Author's Note:**

> day 3 of fic/fluff-tober -- whatever we're calling it 
> 
> apple picking! 
> 
> i'm sorry for the bit of angst in the beginning but i hope it gets fluffy enough at the end!

**BAZ**

Simon Snow is laying on the floor of an apple orchard.

This was Bunce’s latest idea to get us all out of the flat. We’ve both been trying to pull Snow out as much as we can. After dropping out of his courses he spent the entire summer on the couch with a hard cider in hand. He’s been so…

Well, it’s not as if I could blame him. His final year at Watford and he lost his mentor, his magic, and his sense of purpose in one fell swoop. He was doing alright for a bit, after. When he was seeing someone; a lovely woman, according to him, that let him talk and talk about everything he’d tried to not think about. She must not have been too lovely, he stopped going to his appointments after a while. He never told me why.

He hardly tells me anything.

We’re still together. He’s not broken up with me, at least, and sometimes he’ll hold my hand when we’re in line at the market. I think he finds a sense of comfort from it, needs something to ground him when we’re around all those people. All those Normals. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but it can’t be easy to cope with.

I wish he’d tell me something.

Things got worse over the summer. He wasn’t sleeping, or he was always sleeping. He didn’t like to be alone, but he never quite enjoyed us being around. We couldn’t figure out how to help him, and I’m not sure how much he wanted to be helped.

Bunce staged an intervention eventually. She suggested we all go on holiday together, to _America_ of all places. To visit Agatha, and her then-boyfriend Micah. It’s a damn good thing we didn’t. Who knows what hell we would have endured?

She broke things off with Micah a few weeks later, found out he’d been seeing another girl, a Normal girl. A Normal _American_ girl. Good riddance, I told her.

That was when she started trying even harder to get us all out. She put all her spare focus into Snow and how to best help him.

She talked him into seeing his therapist again, somehow. That was probably the most amazing beast I’ve seen her conquer. _Snow’s stubbornness._

Apparently he speaks to his therapist about me, which is how he’s ended up talking to me more. Opening up, bit by bit. (Every now and then he’ll still suggest I see her, too.) (Every time I get a little closer to agreeing.)

And Bunce makes _plans_ for us. Snow still hasn’t returned to uni, but this week Bunce and I have a short holiday. We’re both staying here, with him. The weather’s cooling off, the leaves are turning.

And apparently apples are in season. Because today we’re picking them.

I’ve never gone apple picking.

“Neither have I.” Bunce shrugged when I said it. I almost wanted to argue, but Snow perked up as soon as the idea was presented. I can’t argue with that.

So, now he’s laying on the ground in an apple orchard. A pained groan escapes his throat and I’m rushing over to him, my own basket of apples forgotten.

“What happened? Are you alright?” I’m kneeling next to him, checking him over for any obvious injuries. Nothing looks out of place or discolored, nothing is screaming that he needs to go to A&E.

“Wanted that apple.” He lifts one of his arms, pointing at the tree above us. I follow his finger; there’s a plump, shiny green apple tucked up close to some branches. Far out of his reach.

“There are a dozen others right here.” I take his extended hand and use it to help pull him back to his feet. I try not to relish in the lingering touch before he finally snaps his hand away and steps back up to the tree. I roll my eyes for good measure. “What’s wrong with these?”

He shrugs, then reaches for the lowest branch and starts pulling himself up. “This one looks really good.”

“ _Snow_.” Sometimes being with him is like taking care of a _toddler_. No, I take that back. All toddlers I’ve ever taken care of were far better behaved. Even _Mordelia_. I grab him by the waist to pull him back from the branch; I can feel his annoyed huff in his belly as I hold him. “You’re not meant to climb the trees.”

“But I want _that_ one.” He leans his head back against my shoulder and I catch his pout from the corner of my eye. I’d probably be annoyed if I wasn’t enjoying the closeness so much. He goes limp in my arms, leaning into me, and I try not to read into it.

For Crowley’s sake, I’m trying not to read into _touching_ my _boyfriend_.

I let out a long sigh, my breath ruffling a few of his curls.

“Baz.” Simon says quietly, at the same time that I say, “I’ll get that one for you.”

He jerks his head back, looking surprised. His mouth is hanging open just a bit, lips already beginning to chap but still they look so inviting. I let go and step around him, reaching for a branch and lifting myself into the tree. We’re not meant to climb them, that much was made clear.

But I’d stop at nothing to keep Simon Snow happy, even if it’s just the joy of having a particular apple. I pluck it easily and drop back to the ground. Snow’s still looking at me with that stupidly adorable face, a mixture of surprise and confusion.

I hold the apple out to him.

He swats my hand away, grabbing at my shoulders instead and pulling me down to meet his lips. He kisses me softly, one hand cupping the back of my neck and the other curling over my shoulder. Keeping me there, holding me close to him. As if I’d even think of backing away now.

“I love you.” He whispers the words against my lips, eyes still squeezed shut. I’m so close I can feel the nervous puffs of air that follow the confession. They mix with my own, short and rushed and — Fuck, am I panicking? That’s not the proper response. “I — Baz?”

Simon pulls back to look me in the face, brows furrowed with concern. My head is swimming with a mixture of nerves and elation. This moment is all my dreams come true, but I can’t wrap my mind around it actually happening. Around Simon actually _loving_ me. That just sounds preposterous, but..

“ _Baz_.” Simon’s voice cuts through the storm of chaos in my head. He’s telling me to breathe, and counting, and I try to listen and follow his directions. I finally open my eyes and look at him. (When did I close them?) His blue eyes are brighter, hair and skin glowing in the afternoon sun. He’s fucking beautiful, _and he just said he loves me_.

“Alright?” He asks. The hand he had on my neck is pushing back my hair, caressing my cheek. He’s being so _gentle_.

I nod.

“I — I’m sorry, if I —” He stops as I shake my head. He’s no reason to be, I don’t want him to _apologize_ for it.

“Caught me off guard.” I admit. My voice is quiet, scratchy. A bit weak. I feel a bit weak, still a little light-headed and floaty. I realize I’m holding onto him, gripping onto his arms like he’s the only thing holding me here.

I think he is.

“I’m so—”

“Say it again.”

He quirks his head and I let out my own annoyed huff.

“I want to do it right, not… not _panic_. Forget that. Do it over. Say it again.”

Simon chuckles under his breath, then steps in a little closer. Looks at me this time as he says it.

“I love you.”

I smile, take the words in and let them burn themselves to my memory. Make myself believe it’s true, because we’ve been working so hard for this. To have this, to _keep_ this.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> stalk me on tumbles: [@pipsqueakparker](https://pipsqueakparker.tumblr.com/)


End file.
